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Show THE INVISIBLE GIRL. Having decided to finish the year in Italy, I looked around me for a dwelling, to be had on reasonable terms. I found what I wanted in the outskirts of the ancient city of Lucca, one of the loveliest spots on the peninsula. The house was quite new and in every way desirable, while the rent asked for it was absurdly low. I questioned the agent in regard to this circumstance. Having my money safe, he could afford to be truthful. "There is nothing against the house itself, but the grounds have the reputation of being haunted. Strange sounds are said to be heard near the ledge of rocks in the park yonder. We Italians are superstitious, signor," he added, with a bow, "but I presume to an American a ghost is no objection." "So little," I replied, laughing, "that I am obliged to you for the opportunity of making the acquaintance of this one." Such superstitions are common in Italy, and the agent's story made very little impression upon me. During a tour of inspection around the premises I came upon the rock in question. It consisted of two walls of granite, perhaps twenty feet in height, meeting at an oblique angle, covered over their greater extent with wild vines. It struck me as an exceedingly beautiful nook, and appropriate for my hours of outdoor lounging. On the following morning, provided with a book and a cigar, I went thither, and disposed myself comfortably in the shade of an olive. I had become absorbed in the volume, when I was startled by the sound of a voice near me. It was evidently that of a woman, wonderfully soft and sweet, singing one of the ballads of the country. I could distinguish the words as perfectly as if spoken at arm's length from me. I started up in amazement. I had no visitors, and my only servant was an old man. Nevertheless, I made a thorough exploration of the neighborhood, and satisfied myself that there was no one in the grounds. The only public road was half a mile distant. The nearest dwelling was directly opposite, across a level plain-in sight, but far out of earshot. In a word, I could make nothing of it. I observed that when I left my original position under the olive the voice became instantly silent. It was only within the circumference of a circle about two yards in diameter that it was audible at all. It appeared to proceed from the angle between the two walls of rock. The minutest examination failed to reveal anything but the bare rock. Yet it was out of this bare rock that the voice issued. I returned to my former station in downright bewilderment. The agent's story occurred to me, but even now I attached no weight to it. I am a practical man, and was firmly convinced that there must be some rational explanation of the mystery, if I could but discover it. The voice was certainly that of a young girl. But where was she? Was the old fable of the wood nymph a truth after all? Had I discovered a dryad embosomed in the rock? I smiled scornfully, even as these fancies ran through my head. For more than half an hour the singing continued. Then it ceased, and, though I waited patiently for it s renewal, I heard no more of it that day. When I returned to the house I made no mention of the matter, resolving to keep it to myself until I had solved the mystery. The next morning at an early hour I returned to the sport. After a tedious interval the singing began again. It went softly and dreamily through one verse of song, and then ceased. Presently I heard a deep sigh, and then, in a slow, thoughtful tone, the voice said, "Oh, how lonesome it is. Am I to pass my whole life in this dreary place?" There was no answer. Evidently the person was only soliloquizing. Could she hear me if I spoke, as I heard her, supposing her to be a living being at all? I determined to hazard the experiment. "Who is it that is speaking?" I asked. For some minutes there was no reply; then, in a low, frightened whisper, the voice said: "What was it? I heard a voice!" "Yes," I answered; "you heard mine. I spoke to you." "Who are you?" asked the voice, tremulously; "are you a spirit?" "I am a living man," I returned. "Can you not see me?" "No," answered the voice, "I can only hear you. Oh, where are you? Pray do not frighten me. Come out of your concealment and let me see you." "Indeed, I don't wish to alarm you," I replied. "I am not hidden. I am standing directly in front of the spot whence your voice seems to come." "You are invisible," was the trembling answer. "Your voice comes to me out of the air. Holy Virgin! you must be a spirit. What have I done to deserve this?" "Have no fear of me, I entreat you." I said, earnestly. "It is as much of a mystery to me as to you. I hear you speak, but you are otherwise invisible." "Are you a real living being?" asked the voice, doubtfully. "Then why do I not see you? Come to me. I will sit here. I will not fly." "Tell me where I am to come." I said. "Here in my garden, in the arbor." "There is no arbor here," I returned, "only a solid rock, out of which you seem to be speaking." "Saints protect me," answered the voice. "It is too awful. I dare not stay here longer. Spirit of man, farewell." "But you will come again," I pleaded. "Let me hear you speak once more. Will you not be here at the same hour?" "I dare not-but yet your voice sounds as if you would do me no harm. Yes, I will come." Then there was utter silence-the mysterious speaker had gone. I returned home in a state of stupid wonder, questioning myself if I had lost my senses, and if the whole occurrence was not a delusion. I was faithful to my appointment with the voice on the following morning, however. I had waited but a few moments, when the soft, trembling accents broke the silence, saying: "I am here." "And, I, too," I answered, "I am grateful to you for coming." "I have not slept the whole night," said the voice, "I was so terrified. Am I doing wrong to come?" "Are you still afraid of me?" "Not exactly, but it is so strange." "Will you tell me your name?" "I don't know-Lenore. What is yours?" "George," I answered imitating her example and giving my first name only. "Shall we not be friends, Lenore?" "Oh, yes," answered the voice, with a silvery peal of laughter. Evidently its owner was getting over her fears. "Don't be offended, George. It is so strange-two people who can not see each other, and perhaps never will, making friends." "I will solve the mystery yet, Lenore," I answered, "and find out what you are. Would you be glad to sue me in my proper person?" "Yes," she replied, "I should like to see you." "And I would give a great deal to see you, Lenore. You must be very beautiful if your face is like your voice." "Oh, hush!" was the agitated answer. "It is not right to speak thus." "Why not? Do you know, Lenore that if this goes on I shall end by falling in love with you, though I never see you?" "You are very audacious," was the reply. "If you were really here, before me, I should punish you for it. As it is, I am going now." "But you will come again to morrow, Lenore?" "If you will promise to be more discreet, George, yes." As may be imagined, I did not fail to keep my engagement with my invisible friend. For many consecutive days these strange meetings continued. As absurd as it may seem, the voice was beginning to make a powerful impression upon me. I felt in its soft tones the manifestation of a sweet, refined woman's soul. True, I had made no progress toward unraveling the mystery. Nevertheless, I was confident that through some inexplicable dispensation of Providence I had been permitted to hold communication with a real, living, lovely woman, from an unknown distance. She had not yet told me more than her first name, and I did not press her for more as yet. Her only answer to my question as to where she was, was "in the garden." She did not seem capable of grasping the fact that I was not invisibly near her. She seemed content with matters as they stood, and for the present I could do no more. I made no one my confident as to my daily occupation, first, because I knew that I should be regarded as a madman upon my mere statement of the facts, and, next, because I shrank from having an auditor at my mysterious conferences. Will it be believed? I was in love with an invisible girl-in love with a voice. Absurd, of course, but I am not the first man who has fallen in love with a woman's voice. Besides, I was confident that it was only a matter of time before I should see the girl in person. One day, toward the end of summer, we had been talking as usual, and I had said, "My stay in Italy as nearly over, Lenore." "Ah," was the quick reply, "you will leave me, George?" "No, Lenore," I answered, "not if you wish me to stay." "How can I help it, George, whether you go or stay? I have never seen you, I never shall see you. What am I to you?" "All the world, Lenore," I answered. "Ours has been a strange experience. Without knowing each other as people ordinarily do, we have yet been close friends. You are more to me than a friend. I love you, Lenore." There was a quick, suppressed cry; no other reply. "Be truthful, Lenore. Tell me your heart. If you love me, trust to me to discover your whereabouts and come to you. If you do not, say it, and I will spare you the pain of meeting me, and let us never speak again." There was a pause; then she tremulously said: "I have never seen you, but my heart tells me to trust you. I know you are good and noble, and I am willing to leave my fate in your hands. Yes, George, I love you." Even as she said the words she uttered a cry of alarm. Then a gruff man's voice spoke. "Go to your room, Lenore. As to this villain with whom you have been holding these secret meetings, we shall soon find him and punish him as he deserves. Search for the rascal, Antonio, and bring him to me." There was a quick trampling of feet and crushing of shrubbery, as if the man were breaking through it. Then another man's voice spoke. "He has disappeared, your Excellency." "Very well; we shall find him yet. He can not escape me. This is a fine piece of business, surely-the daughter of Count Villani holding secret meetings with some common vagabond. Lenore shall take the veil." "Yes," I cried, "the bridal veil, Count. I shall pay my respects in person to-day." Then, leaving them to get over their astonishment as best they might, I returned to the house in high spirits. The name, Count Villani, had given me the clue to the whereabouts of Lenore. The dwelling of which I have spoken as situated across the plain, and opposite the rook, was the residence of Count Villani. I had met the old gentleman in the city and formed a speaking acquaintance with him. As neither of us had mentioned our private affairs, I had no means of connecting his daughter with my invisible girl." That afternoon I presented myself to the Count, and, after amazing him with my story, which a few tests convinced him was true, formally proposed for his daughter's hand. As my wealth and social position were well known, he offered no objections, and his daughter was sent for. As she entered the room, I saw that my idea of her had been less than true. I had never seen so lovely a woman, nor one who so perfectly embodied my highest conception of grace and beauty. Her dark eyes, still wet with tears, met mine inquiringly. "Lenore," said I, "I have come, as I promised." "George," she cried, with a radiant smile, "is it you?" "Are you disappointed?" I asked; "am I what you expected?" "You could not be more," she answered, naively, "you are no less." "Now that we meet as solid and material beings," I continued, "are you willing to ratify the contract we made when we were only voice, Lenore? Your father gives us permission." It may be supposed that I received a satisfactory answer, when the good natured Count found it discreet to turn away his eyes during my reception of it. As to the strange circumstances which was the means of uniting us, a series of tests revealed a remarkable acoustic property in the rock, by which persons standing in certain positions with reference to it, were able to hear each other with ease more than a quarter of a mile apart. It is a matter of fact solution of the mystery, but Lenore and I are none the less grateful for the good offices of the rock. |
